Killmonger's One-Shot Collection

Wicked Games

Short and literal interpretation.
♡

Erik hadn't slept in two days and though his mind was restless, his body was tired, melded to the soft red velvet of the chair he reclined in, amber Hennessy warming him from within. In front of him was a window where he could watch the dancers on stage in solitude. A black duffel full of stacks sat on the floor at his feet. The room was tinted red and he could feel the cool air blowing on his eyeballs, a sign they'd been open for too long. They were glazed. He was smacked. Crossfaded. A blunt sat between his thick fingers. The glass table next to his chair held the bottle of Henny and a thick glass sat beside it. He didn't need the glass. It shattered against the far front wall next to the glass window and he watched the pieces scatter on the floor across the room, catching a glimpse of the half-naked still body from the corner of his eye. She'd stopped moving.

"Dance," he ordered. His eyes stayed on the large pointed shards of glass ahead. Images of Katrin on the living room carpet laying in a pool of deep red blood with the shards of glass shoved through her neck infiltrated his mind. He retracted them as soon as they came, sliding his hand over his face. They were too fucked up to keep or entertain even though a part of him was willing to go there. 

The dancers down on stage hadn't missed a beat. They hadn't heard anything shatter. The body before him however still was not moving. What was he paying her for? When he made eye contact, she started dancing again but it was off and he couldn't feel it.

"Get me someone different." 

"You want someone d-," she snorted, "...Who the hell you want then?" 

He had noticed someone else.. just seen her for a moment but she'd made an impression. She had long black hair, golden brown skin, and green eyes like a cat. Slim build.. proportionate. 

"That's Bambi. I'll go get her then." 

The door opened and closed again and he picked up the bottle of Hennessy to take a burning gulp. "Ah," he gasped setting it back on the glass with a clink. The dancer was on the pole was in an outfit that looked like it was made of ribbons. She was some tippers front frow. Erik puffed his blunt and closed his eyes resting against the velvet chair with the music bouncing off the walls of his brain. The click of the door opened his eyes to the young woman standing in front of him and he had to blink a few times to focus on her face. She looked so much like his girl it was blowing his mind. In an alternate universe, he'd have met this one first and then he wouldn't be dealing with any of this current bullshit. Maybe she'd have loved him.. just a little. 

"The last girl.. wasn't shit… so I need you to dance for me," he exhaled softly, smoke pouring through his lips as he watched her. She stepped forward, approaching.

"That was Tasha, she new. She said you putting up 2k just for a dance is that true?"

Her voice wasn't Katrin's but it had a similar timbre. He flashed the wad of cash in his pocket as she came closer. Fanning it, he looked into her cat eyes. 

"I need a distraction..please," he muttered. "I don't wanna think tonight..."

"I got you, babydoll, just focus on me." Winding her hips, she moved seductively, her ass on display putting him in a trance. She was shaped just like Katrin. They had the same body and facial structure. He'd be at home fuckin on her, but she was out fuckin on someone else thinking he wasn't onto her. He knew. But he also knew he had his own demons that prevented him from confronting her about it. For one, his job was a job that no woman in her right mind would accept. He killed people, was never home, was never there when she needed him, slept whenever he was home, they hardly had sex, and he had nothing real to give her but dirty money. What woman wouldn't cheat? He couldn't fault her though it hurt him. He had his own life or death issues and had to come home to find his girl had all but forgotten about him.